Almost Lovers, Certain Disasters
by WittyWriter14
Summary: They should have known this was only the beginning of their tale. The dysfunctional, unconventional love life of one Natalie Archibald.                      Carter/OC -  Chuck/OC?
1. Chapter 1

AN: I do not own Gossip Girl. I own only the character, Natalie Archibald and Elsa Antoinette Archibald. I like to believe that if Nate had a younger sister this is what her story would be like.

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Chapter One

"She's my daughter, too! You can't keep me from her, Natalie!" Carter spat at the blond, her back turned to him.

"Oh, now I'm keeping you away from her? You didn't want her to begin with! You get no say in how I raise my daughter!" Natalie said, a thick coating of disbelief embedded in her voice. How dare he claim to have even the most miniscule right to Elsa! He had all but forced her to give the child up for adoption! If it hadn't been for cleverly crafted, classic Upper East Side scheme, Natalie wouldn't even be able to hold her daughter at night or be able to have this argument with Carter at this precise moment.

"Our daughter!" Carter said, standing from his spot on the couch.

"No, she is not our daughter. She is my daughter. You lost any chance of being her father when you all but forced me to give her up for adoption. You will never hurt the way you hurt me. You lied to me and you hurt me over and over again. I refuse to let Elsa go through that. With you or anyone else, for that matter." Natalie seethed. Pure hated ran through her veins, her mind clouded with all the the ways she wanted to torture him at this moment.

"You know just as well as I do that if I take you to court I'll get my way." Carter said as he stepped closer and closer to Natalie until her back was against the wall.

"You cannot keep her from me. If I don't start seeing her on a _**regular**_ basis, those little scuffles we used to get into will be nothing compared to the hell I'll give you." Natalie swallowed the lump in her throat as her mind processed Carter's threat. He wouldn't dare take Elsa away from her. Even HE wasn't that evil.

"Carter. You're angry, I get it. I'm sorry if I hurt you when things ended but you hurt me, emotionally and physically. Please don't take Elsa away from me." Natalie said, her voice wavering slightly.

"Give me what I want and I won't have to, Ali." Carter said, tilting her face so that her eyes met his. She moved away from his touch, her teeth digging into the side of her cheek -hard- as his old nickname for her echoed slightly in her mind.

"I'm gonna be busy for the next few days. You can keep her for the weekend. You call me every morning when she wakes up and every night when she goes to sleep. If you let anything happen to her I'll make you regret it. You can pick her up tonight." Natalie said to him.

It made Natalie sick to her stomach to let Elsa go with Carter. Whether he was her father or not, Carter had wanted nothing to do with her when he found out Natalie was pregnant. The only thing he'd been focused on was finding a way to rid them of the baby.

But it backfired. Epically.

Carter had all but forced Natalie to give Elsa up for adoption. And she did. To Anne Archibald. Anne wasn't as slow as she may have seemed at times. She was quick and witty and game for Natalie's plan. A full 72 hours after Anne had adopted her own granddaughter she'd signed over the full parental rights back over to Natalie. So, technically Natalie had given Elsa up for adoption. Even if she adopted her on her own right after. Carter really should have looked for a loop-hole like that.

He really should have known not to mess with her.

He really should have known she'd find her way back to her daughter.

They both should have known that this was the only the beginning of their tale.

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Please, please review. Criticism is welcome or praise. Whatever floats my readers boats. :D  
And this story is based off a storyline I created with the help of a close friend of mine. If he reads this, he knows who he is. If you're reading this, I'm changing a few things. We all know Carter's not so bad. completely.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So, I'm experimenting with some different types of writing. I've been taking writing workshops here and there. I'm not quite sure what style really fits me and I may switch back and forth until I find a comfortable fit. I also switch point of views and timelines quite often.

P.S. - Possibilist is most definitely an inspiration to me. You should all check out his/her (never really made it known) fanfics. They're quite impressive! I'm making it my New Years Resolution to write more Author Notes (AN).

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**Chapter Two**

She could never stay mad at me.

Not even when I have my hands wrapped around both her arms, squeezing and shaking; blood vessels beneath tan skin bursting until they spill out under the tissue. I see her arm marred royal blue when she sprawls out against me in the morning.

I admire my work, gliding my fingertips against her skin, watching clumped mascara flake down her cheeks when her eyes snap open. She doesn't move an inch, she knows better. She knows it hurts, I know it hurts but fuck it. She had to learn to somehow. There was something I'd heard about associating a thought with pain. If she thinks about leaving, she'll associate it with pain. I know it's a dick move but I don't care. I know I scare her, make her wonder if I'd ever hurt Elsa. I don't care though.

"Get a shower... you'll feel better." Pressing a kiss to her hair, untangling her legs from mine and rolling off the large bed. My eyes meet tiny hands, gripping the bars of a crib and kicking tiny little limbs; unaware of the morally bankrupt scumbag watching her. Barely a minute passes before I hear the shower head run and see tiny little hands rubbing at tiny little eyes.

A whimper falls from this little creature, my little creature.

On my hands and knees, I shamelessly crawl to that crib and watch as she sticks her hand through the space between the bars. A cool spark lands on my cheek, small fingertips splayed against my skin. She stares at me with wonder, pacifier wiggling back ad forth as she suckles on it. For a moment, I hate myself for thinking I wouldn't want her, for trying to rid myself of her. She erupts into giggles, pacifier falling from her mouth, when I pretend to bite towards her small digits, drawing her band back into the crib. I never use the word cute, and I won't use it this time. Perfect is the word that comes to mind.

I stand and pick her up easily, resting her in the center of my chest. She's a tiny little. Not a tiny little thing. A tiny little is what she is. Her eyes and toes, everything.

Elsa looked more like her mother than she does me. A few wisps of platinum blond hair, soft as silk skin, lashes long enough to tickle the apple of her cheeks.

Her eyes though and her smile. That's me. The way her nose wrinkles and her mouth curves when she giggles is from daddy. From me. She's a blend. Perfectly combined from two incompatible people to create a common interest, a bind almost.

It reminds me of Natalie. She's always been tiny. But, in a much different way than this tiny little in my arms. Her hands fist the wrinkled cotton I'm wearing, desperately trying to stick it in her mouth. Right when she realizes she'll have to lean down to accomplish this task, I hear feet smacking against the marble floor. I set Tiny Little back down in her crib and turn around in time to catch a glimpse of Natalie's smile. It's soft, barely there but it _is_ there.

She can never stay mad at me.

"You're supposed to be getting a shower." I say, running a hand through my greasy, gelled hair.

"You were supposed to let her fall back asleep." She says, playing a little game with you. Mimicking me. The smile is there still and I trace it over with my thumb, noticing the much lighter coloring of the bruises now that she's been up and moving.

"Shower still running?" I ask.

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"mmph" Barely muttering it out as he smashes his lips against mine, tongue and teeth sliding against each other.

I hate him sometimes. But I love him more than than sometimes. Last night wasn't the first time he's pulled a dick move like that. He knows better than grab me, knows better than to ever grab me in front of Elsa. Ever. But, we fit together.

I bet Serena never had any bruises on her arms from nights with him.

I bet Blair never made him make the noises I have.

I bet he never made love to them on the bathroom counter or fucked them on Egyptian cotton sheets.

I bet he'll never admit I'm the only one he'll always come back to.

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A gasp falls from my lips as her hips begin to wiggle against mine. She never lasted long when we jumped each other like this. Creases on her forehead become increasingly evident, her toes curl against the back of my thigh. She's waiting for me, waiting to fall over the edge _together._ I smirk, gripping the back of her neck and expose the expanse of her throat. I nibble and lick and suck and begin a flurry of jackhammered thrusts.

One, two sharp tugs on my hair and I can feel wet and warm, soft. So soft. She's never loud during sex but makes these little noises, whimpers you might call them. And she lets them pop out of her mouth during those intense moments and I swear I'd stay inside of her forever if she'd make those noises every few minutes, maybe seconds. She begins to chuckle softly, laying her palm against my face as I grin. We kiss, lips pressing together and our grins melting into each others.

I'll never admit but she's the best lay I've had... ever.

I'll never admit that this whole 'relationship thing' might be fucked up on seven new levels but, it works for us.

Us.


End file.
